


Emergency Contact

by bewarethesmirk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Future Fic, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21941812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewarethesmirk/pseuds/bewarethesmirk
Summary: “Derek here hasn’t left your side,” the nurse coos, and Derek glares at her back. “You’re so lucky to have such an adoring husband.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 40
Kudos: 644
Collections: The Sterek Secret Santa - Edition 2019





	Emergency Contact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FoolishSel (Seleenee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seleenee/gifts).



> Thanks to E, E, and P for all of the help. All mistakes are my own. I'll link to my betas once this is off anon. :)
> 
> Happy holidays!

The early winter blizzard hit D.C. swiftly, bringing with it huge swathes of beautiful snowflakes, interspersed with splattering droplets of freezing rain. It’s a day to be inside with a cozy blanket and maybe some tea. Hell, even a tea cozy or some other suitably domestic shit.

Instead of being inside, though, Stiles is outside, red-cheeked and frigid, waiting to cross the street to seek refuge in one of his favorite coffee shops between classes. 

Because, of course, classes aren’t cancelled. That’s crazy talk.

Luckily, Lydia made sure Stiles bought appropriate snow boots and a down coat, so Stiles is bundled up, complete with a huge backpack weighing his shoulders down. Everything hurts and the umbrella he’s holding up against the freezing rain keeps blowing inside out.

The crosswalk changes and Stiles steps forward, fussing with his umbrella, and promptly slips.

There’s the loud thwack as his head slams against the concrete and then, nothing.

*

Stiles drifts at the periphery of consciousness. The lights are too-bright against his closed eyelids and the pain too-sharp in every atom of his being. He drifts until the tell-tale sounds of beeping and squeaky wheels register as hospital. His heartbeat ratchets up and he tries to open his eyes but is blinded by fluorescent lights. A warmth engulfs his hand as it’s squeezed. The grip is strong but soft. Pain bleeds from Stiles’ body and he relaxes against his will. 

“You’re okay,” he hears. 

He knows that voice. 

“Go back to sleep, Stiles.” 

He drifts away, feeling anchored.

*

When Stiles is among the land of the living again, he’s much more lucid. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

He opens his eyes through the pain throbbing in his head and looks around. For a hospital, the room isn’t half bad. It’s a private room, with two comfortable chairs, a sleek-looking TV, and a bedside table upon which sits a huge bouquet of flowers. 

He knows very well he can’t afford this.

Perhaps the most important accessory is the werewolf sitting in the corner reading a dogeared copy of Don Quixote. Derek looks immersed in his book, but the book is upside down. 

Upon closer inspection, Derek looks beard-ier than usual and thoroughly exhausted.

Something tugs in Stiles’ heart. He hopes it’s related to his injury.

“I see—” Stiles coughs, clearing his throat. 

Derek drops his distracted pretense and rushes over to hold a cup of water to Stiles’ lips, while placing a gentle hand at the nape of his neck to guide his swallows. Stiles drinks and tries not to notice the carefulness of Derek’s movements or the intensity of his gaze.

Trying to speak again, Stiles smiles up at Derek. “I see you’ve mastered the ability to read upside down.” Derek squints, all confused-wolf, scrunchy-face, before he glances at the book. His ears tinge pink and he murmurs, “Shut up, Stiles.”

*

By the time a harried nurse comes in, Stiles has the full deets: he’s been in and out of consciousness for the better part of a day. His head and tailbone met with an icy road, resulting in a bruised tailbone and concussion. Luckily, some kind folks helped him out of the road so he’d been spared from being hit by a car. 

He still feels like he’s been hit by a car. 

Derek had been listed as Stiles’ emergency contact (only because he lives closest to D.C. these days!) and had immediately come to Stiles’ side. Yes, his dad knows, and had to be convinced not to charge into D.C .with an entire cavalry to right any perceived wrongs.

Stiles is secretly pleased Derek traveled the four hours. 

“Derek here hasn’t left your side,” the nurse coos, and Derek glares at her back. “You’re so lucky to have such an adoring husband.”

It isn’t Stiles’ fault that he’d been drinking apple juice at that point. He sprays the nurse in the face and, god, that’s not the kind of facial he’s interested in giving.

He glances at Derek’s horrified face.

While the nurse scurries toward the Kleenex, Stiles mouths, “Husband?”

*

When the nurse escapes after Stiles apologizes profusely, he points one finger in Derek’s direction.

“Spill.”

Derek sighs and his shoulders slump in defeat.

He’s well-trained. Pun intended.

*

Derek received a phone call from the hospital since Stiles listed Derek as his emergency contact. Which is a thing Derek now knows, and Stiles is trying to forget that they both know. There’s too much knowing. 

The hospital assumed Derek was Stiles’ significant other. In order to stay with Stiles, Derek had played along, telling them that they’re husbands. The idea makes Stiles feel slightly better about listing Derek as his soulmate on the emergency contact forms when he’d registered this past semester. 

What? He’d been drunk at the time.

“Where’s my ring?”

Derek looks up from his book. His hand squeezes Stiles’ again; black tendrils snake up his arms, where he’s draining Stiles’ pain. 

Stiles’ eyelids flutter as he sighs in bliss.

“What.”

“I’d like a ring if we’re married.” Stiles smirks. “And a honeymoon.”

“I need,” Derek says, shooting up from his chair with werewolf speed. He pauses. “Uh, coffee. Yeah. Be right back,” he mutters.

There’s a flush on the back of Derek’s neck as he leaves the room. Stiles, somewhat high from werewolf healing and close proximity to Derek, grins.

*

“Why am I your emergency contact?” Derek asks later. It’s dark out and only a small lamp is lit in the room. It feels safe, with Derek’s hand on his arm. Stiles isn’t sure why it’s there since there’s no pain leaching going on, but Stiles isn’t stupid enough to point it out.

“Why not?” Stiles says flippantly. He shrugs and ponders asking Derek to get him some more apple juice.

“Stiles,” Derek says, intense. His hand is a loose but firm circle around Stiles’ elbow. He squeezes.

Stiles swallows, catches Derek’s gaze. “I trust you,” he says. “I knew I’d want you here if I got hurt. That you’d come for me.”

Derek stares at him for so long, too long. Stiles feels antsy, like he’s said too much or entirely the wrong thing. Why did he think that this was a possibility after all the years of denial and yearning?

Derek’s hand loosens and then his fingers are stroking along Stiles’ bicep. It’s comforting, but it’s charged, and Derek’s intense, gorgeous eyes are dark. Oh.

“I’ll always come for you,” Derek says sincerely.

It’s the most romantic declaration Stiles has ever heard, but also the funniest. 

He laughs so loudly a nurse bursts in to check on them.

*

Stiles leaves the hospital with Derek’s arm around his shoulder. It’s entirely unnecessary as he’s led to Derek’s car since most of the snow has melted.

Derek situates Stiles in his seat, with Stiles facing the outside of the car. Derek kneels, dropping to one knee, and all the air leaves Stiles’ lungs.

“Are you proposing?” Stiles asks in a rush. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips.

Derek cups his cheek and Stiles feels the soft puff of air as Derek chuckles. “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” 

The kiss is slow and soft, and Stiles still moans into it. Derek seems just as affected: when Derek pulls back, he’s panting.

“You have a break from school for a few days,” Derek says. “Would you like to go back to the cabin with me?”

Stiles brightens. 

“Can it be our honeymoon?”

Derek shakes his head fondly as he helps Stiles into the car, but doesn’t deny it.

Ha! 

Totally a honeymoon.


End file.
